Duplicates
by tmntfan4eva
Summary: Ford puts together the copy machine for the first time and he and Fiddleford eagerly experiment with it. It's always good to have a bit of fun no matter who you are.


**Fluff. Pure, shameless fluff. Are they in character? I don't know. That's up to you to decide. I just wanted me some fluff so I did it. Speaking of which, can this count for day two of fiddauthor week? I think I'll count it as that. No time to write one up for it the day of. That'd just be silly. Anyway, this was inspired by a post I saw somewhere in the fiddauthor tag on tumblr saying something to the effect of 'copy machine shenanigans'. That's how my mind is remembering it at least. So I went for it. Hope you enjoy!**

Fiddleford sits back in the chair at the kitchen table. He tips a mug of coffee to his lips, savoring the taste as much as the smell as it wafts up into his nose. It is one of the few breaks he gets around this old shack. If he's not working alongside Ford on the portal then he is being dragged along on one of his silly monster hunts or taking care of his son Tate. While he would never trade time away from Tate, it doesn't make it any easier to take care of him as a single parent. Honestly he is beyond stressed. He needs this.

" _Fiddleford_!" Ford cries from another room.

Fiddleford jumps a mile. The mug slips and he scrambles to reclaim his grip on it before it completely leaves his grasp. He manages it and he can't help but let out a heavy sigh. His relief, however, is short lived. He frowns and sends a sharp look in the direction of Ford's voice. Still, he sets his mug down and goes to find Ford anyway. "Yeah? What is it Stanford?" He asks as he rounds the corner.

Ford perks and bounces into a standing position. "Fidds! Check it out!" He motions toward the machine at his side.

Fiddleford looks it over in the blink of an eye. "Yeah, what about it?" He raises a brow. "It don't look like anything more than a copier." Ford would never get so excited over something so simple though. No, there must be something more. Something he did to it – tweaked to produce some strange creature or unnatural event.

Ford laughs. "Come now, Fiddleford. You know better than that." His grin spreads wider across his face. "Look, look." He beckons his friend closer.

Fiddleford shakes his head, but he does as Ford says anyway. A tiny smile twitches at the edges of his lips at the sheer enthusiasm that Ford exudes. "Alright, so what am I lookin' at?" He peers down at the machine.

"Presenting!" Ford flips the top up and lays his arm across the scanner. He presses the button and it lights up green as it scans his appendage. A paper with the image comes out the far end, but nothing else.

Fiddleford watches with a wholly unimpressed expression. He is an instant from calling Ford out on the waste of time when the unthinkable happens.

The paper moves and the image shimmers, the grayscale turning to color. Then the hand pushes itself up off the paper and stretches itself to its full height.

Fiddleford shrieks. "What in tarnation?"

Ford bursts out laughing. "Relax there Fiddleford." He says through the laughter. "It won't hurt you."

The hand pushes itself off the tray and springs toward Fiddleford. It latches onto him and scurries up his clothes.

Fiddleford grimaces and squeezes his eyes shut. His whole body is tense.

The hand works its way to Fiddleford's shoulder and perches there.

Once the appendage settles, Fiddleford dares to peek out of his eye. The hand merely sits there and with that knowledge Fiddleford gradually relaxes. He lets out a puff of air. "How odd." He tentatively pokes at the hand.

The hand comes to life upon contact. It props itself up and extends its finger, running it along Fiddleford's cheek.

Fiddleford chuckles and his face flushes. Automatically he leans into the touch.

Ford has long ceased laughing. Now all he does is stare blankly at the sight before him. He tilts his head slightly as he contemplates Fiddleford.

Fiddleford notices Ford's stare and his pink cheeks turn red with embarrassment. He jerks his hand up and swats the limb off of his shoulder. He clears his throat. "Th-That was, ah, um…" A nervous laugh ekes out of him.

Ford snickers. "You're cute when you're embarrassed."

Fiddleford smiles meekly, keeping his gaze on the wall. "Y-You think?" Ford's words only make him more flustered. He takes to pulling at his fingers to try and relieve some of it.

The hand crawls across the floor, working its way toward Fiddleford again.

Ford grabs a spray can and squirts it a few times. It twitches a bit before melting into oblivion. "There." He twirls the can around a finger. "It's gone now."

Fiddleford's eyes widen at the sight. "Y-You reckon that's alright? Morally I mean? It was…kinda…alive." He frowns at himself. Sort of. Kind of.

Ford waves a hand dismissively. "It's fine. It was only a hand. Not a person or anything." He sets the spray can to the side.

Fiddleford perks as an idea comes to him. "Hey, what about that?" His eyes light up and a smile stretches across his face. "You think it can do that? Copy a whole person?" His embarrassment fades in the wake of the exciting possibilities.

Ford grins. "Why not!?" He clenches his fists. "It worked flawlessly on my hand." He holds it up. "It should be no different with a larger subject."

Fiddleford presses his knuckles to his lips. "The size though." He glances at the machine. "How on earth are we gonna make a whole person with that tiny space?" He looks intently at Ford. They are both brilliant, no doubt, but Ford is always the one with the plan. Ford leads, he follows. That's how it's always been.

"Pshhh, easy." Ford pushes a button on the machine. "Double sided."

Fiddleford shrugs. "If you say so."

"Alright, Fiddleford. So who's it gonna be? Me or you?"

Fiddleford pauses for a fraction of a second before throwing a hand in the air. "I'm all on board for this one. I always did wanna see myself without having to look in a mirror." He laughs at himself as he pushes himself up on the machine and lies back on it, fitting his upper half perfectly within the space.

Ford grins. "That's the spirit Fidds." He hits the button. The machine lights up and beeps once it finishes, indicating for the second image to be scanned. "Other half now." He moves to the end of the machine.

Fiddleford sits up and spins himself around. He stretches his legs out and finds that they are a little too long to fit. _Gosh darn._ He scoots back, squeaking as he runs out of space and slips off the machine.

Ford catches him under the arms. He grins down at Fiddleford. "A plus work there."

Fiddleford tilts his head back to peer at Ford, resting it against Ford's chest. He smiles sheepishly. "I would've caught myself."

Ford snorts. "Of course you would have." He leans forward and brushes his nose against Fiddleford's in an eskimo kiss.

Fiddleford reaches up and wraps his arms around Ford's neck. He pulls him down enough so that their lips meet.

Ford kisses deeply. As he does so, he slips a hand from Fiddleford's arm and reaches for the scan button. After a few seconds of searching, forgetting what he was doing, and then searching some more he finally hits it.

The machine whirs to life and after much effort the sheet comes out the other side.

Ford breaks the kiss and both he and Fiddleford lean forward to try and see what the outcome is. On more than one occasion a minor success has led into a massive malfunction and the formation of some kind of monstrosity. Their breaths are heavy as they wait.

The image shimmers just as before and pries itself from the paper. It flops over onto the floor with the effort and after much twitching unfolds itself. When it stands it is a full body and the perfect image of Fiddleford. It spots them and waves. "Well, howdy."

Ford laughs out loud. "Astounding!" He releases Fiddleford and rushes over to his double.

Fiddleford squeaks as his support suddenly vanishes. This time there is no one there to catch him either and he crashes to the floor with a thud. He groans, rubbing the back of his head as he raises into a sitting position.

"Fiddleford, you've _got_ to check this out." His words are giddy with excitement. "I mean, he looks _just_ like you." He grins from ear to ear as he orbits the duplicate, looking over every inch of him.

Fiddleford pushes himself to his feet. His eyes widen and a sharp spike of unease prickles at the back of his neck. The idea of an identical him was cool, sure, but seeing it right here in front of his face feels wrong somehow. Defying some law of nature.

Ford narrows his eyes. "Hmm…I wonder…?" He taps his chin. "What's Newton's First Law?"

"Well that's easy. The first law says every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it." The clone spouts the answer back.

Ford's eyes light up further and his grin grows brighter. "How about D, D, and more D? Do you know about that?"

The clone clenches his fists and grins to match Ford's. "You betcha! It's only my favorite game of all time. Just like you, right Stanford?"

Ford nods. "Yeah!" He laughs. "Amazing, absolutely amazing. Intellect _and_ memories. Not just a blank slate. Just…wow!"

Fiddleford glares at the pair. It's not that cool.

"We could go play right now." The clone offers, a suggestive smile curling his lips.

Ford chuckles. "Well, I don't know." He rubs his neck. "I mean, there were a lot of tests I wanted to run and-" He lets out a single syllable laugh and cuts himself off. "Ah, who am I kidding? Let's do it! There's plenty to analyze – to see if you have the same playing style as the original, if you adapt as well…"

Fiddleford stops listening then. _The original?_ So what, he doesn't even get a name anymore? He isn't one to get angry, but this burns him up.

Ford motions the clone away from the machine. "Come on, to the living room. You know where the living room is, right? I mean, you know other stuff Fiddleford knows, so why not-"

The clone yelps suddenly, twitching unnaturally. His body slumps, folding in on itself as it is reduced to nothing more than a puddle on the floor.

Ford jumps and pivots. "What the heck?" His eyes widen as he witnesses the demise of the clone. He looks wildly about in an attempt to understand this. His shock quickly vanishes as he sets eyes on the culprit. "Fiddleford!" He glares at his friend.

Fiddleford stands with the spray can in his hand. "What?" He grumbles.

" _What_? You just destroyed a perfect specimen! And I-I wasn't done examining him! There was so much more I could have learned! And what if that was a fluke? What if I can't duplicate that kind of precision?"

Fiddleford snorts and turns his head away from Ford. He crosses his arms in a huff as he glares at the wall. "Yeah, cause a game of D, D, and more D is _real_ scientific."

Ford returns Fiddleford's cold sentiment for a moment before a thought hits him. Confusion flashes across his face and then amusement lights his eyes. His lips turn up into a smile and he even snickers despite how hard he tries to hide it.

Fiddleford starts. He swivels his head around to look at Ford. "W-What?"

Ford laughs harder.

Fiddleford's cheeks color slightly. "What's so funny?" He pouts.

"Fidds," He says with a laugh in his tone. "Are you, _jealous_?" Ford grins from ear to ear.

Fiddleford is like a deer caught in the headlights. "W-What?" He manages. He pulls at his sleeve and swallows over and over. "Me? Nah…n-no way. Who'd be jealous of someone like you?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Ford shoots him a knowing look.

Fiddleford ducks his head to try and hide his burning face.

"Come on, Fidds." Ford makes his way toward Fiddleford. "It may have looked and acted just like you, but it _wasn't_ you." He reaches a hand out to Fiddleford's face.

Fiddleford scoffs and turns his head away from Ford. "Betcha couldn't have told the difference if we was side by side." He tries to scowl, but only looks disheartened. He never was good at being mad.

Ford shakes his head. "Do _you_ want to play some D, D, and more D?" He raises a brow.

Fiddleford turns his nose up. "No."

"Yeah you do." Ford leans forward and nuzzles him. "Say it."

Fiddleford presses his lips tight together, but they twitch upward despite his efforts and within seconds he is struggling to suppress laughter. The sound comes out muffled, but it is undeniable what it is.

"Say it." Ford grins.

"Yeah, yeah. Course I do. You know I do." Fiddleford pushes Ford lightly off of him.

Ford nods. "Come on then." He holds a hand out to Fiddleford.

Fiddleford simply stares for a moment. The image of the Ford beckoning to the clone flashes through his head and he realizes that that's the real difference. _Trust._ Ford was always sensitive about his extra set of digits. And no matter how much that clone looked like him, that could never make Ford trust a body he had known for mere minutes.

"Fidds?" Ford tilts his head and his brows knit together.

Fiddleford smiles at Ford, slipping his hand into Ford's and lacing his fingers through his friend's. Each of his fingers is fitted snugly between two others – a feat impossible with any other hand, any other _person_.

Ford squeezes lightly, just like that first time back in their college days. Only this time there is no hesitation. "I'd know if it was the real you." He mutters as they walk out of the room.

Fiddleford perks. "Hm?"

"Your hands are too familiar to forget or mistake, even with a clone."

Fiddleford smiles to himself. Even if it logically wouldn't work that way, it doesn't matter. Then again, maybe logic has nothing to do with it. _With love._ If anything could defy logic, that would be it. "Same." He squeezes back. "I'd know this feeling anywhere."

 **In case you noticed, yes, I intentionally made the scene near the end with Ford pressuring Fiddleford to 'Say it' like the scene from my other story 'Nonconsensual' because I'm horrible and like to torture my favs. I like to think that it is a game Fidds and Ford played with each other, of course innocently so. Bill, naturally, being the ginormous jerk that he is, uses this later (like in Nonconsensual) to further torment Fiddleford. Aren't I just the sweetest? Also the hand holding bit, the remembering back to college part, was a reference to a story I saw on tumblr on Moonturtle6's account but I don't know who wrote it cause I think it was anonymously submitted. *shrug* Anyway, I hope you liked it. Please review!**


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